The Ring
The Ring Every family has a story about an heirloom—something prized, coveted, and often contested. In mine, it was my mother’s jewelry. Let me set the stage. During his time in Vietnam, my father made several trips to Hong Kong, each one resulting in a new piece of jewelry for my mother. He’d developed a rapport with a jeweler there, whom he visited first thing in the morning when the shops opened. In Hong Kong tradition, the first sale of the day was considered auspicious; if it went well, the whole day would be prosperous. Dad would choose a stone, select a setting, and on his next trip, he’d return to pick up the finished piece, starting the process all over again. He loved that jeweler. Over the months, my mother’s collection grew to include black star sapphires, large smoky topaz, strands of pearls, a color-changing sapphire ring, jade bracelets, pearl earrings, and an assortment of other treasures. Among them was a particularly striking ring—a large green stone set i...